


what the apocalypse was made of

by BehindFlickeringLampposts



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Fiveya Week 2019, Introspection, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Past Relationship(s), Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 15:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20391865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BehindFlickeringLampposts/pseuds/BehindFlickeringLampposts
Summary: The was no room for tenderness in the apocalypse.There isn't room for tenderness - for Vanya - even now, not if he wants to stop the world from going up in flames.It doesn't mean he can't indulge her, however briefly.She always was his weakness.





	what the apocalypse was made of

There was no place for tenderness in the Apocalypse, Five thinks staring intently at her hands nursing his wound, thin fingers lightly brushing his skin.  
  
There was no place for tenderness in the Apocalypse and, yet, there's a yearning inside him, a bone deep hunger born decades ago in the dust of what had once been his home, that threatens to swallow him whole at the mere thought of her.  
  
Right now there is no room for tenderness either, he firmly reminds himself even though he knows that it won't stop him from giving in — _Vanya was the most vulnerable part of him. Had always been._  
  
But he can't hide the unimaginable need for her, back when he was so very young and so very alone. He cannot forget how much he had longed for her presence, dirty and desperate for the same light she had gifted him with in the past.  
  
He had longed to lightly brush her hair once more, to meet her eyes briefly at the table and watch her cheeks become more pink by the second. Even then — _when he still had hope of finding a way home_ — he knew that there was no room for tenderness in the Apocalypse.  
  
Things haven't changed.  
  
He still pines helplessly after her, would still lay down his life for her.  
  
She's still quiet and small and absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful as he remembered.  
  
There is still no room for Vanya — _shy, sad, lovely Vanya_ — not if he wants to stop the world from going up in flames.  
  
But he will indulge, however briefly, in the sweet satisfaction that comes from having her close. Just to give himself the time to stop and breathe, for the first time in forty-five years.  


  
  
The apocalypse was made of tenderness, Five thinks staring at her glowing form.  
  
The apocalypse was made of tenderness and starlight and fire.  
  
There's a bitter laugh stuck in his throat, choking him up with every breath he takes.  
  
Vanya caused the apocalypse.  
Five is surprised to find he doesn't care, beside a twinge of annoyance at himself for letting everything spiral out of control so quickly.  
  
He still longs for her but that doesn't surprise him, not after all those decades. He's had plenty of time to accept his own emotions and fantasies.  
  
It takes him less than a second to know that he won't let the others harm her in any way unless necessary. And even then, the only thing he'll allow will be knocking her out.  
  
God, he can't believe he's thinking of knocking Vanya out. Once he figures out exactly how Luther is involved in this mess Number One will have to hide from him and his murderous rage. _Hide well._  
  
Right now, however, what's most important is how to get Vanya to stop. He doesn't have any ideas that might help, and he's not that much of a fan of the approach they choose but the clock is ticking and there's no turning back.  


  
  
Enveloped in a white light connecting him directly to Vanya, Five can't help but think that had Vanya been less gentle, less caring — _harsher, more like them_ — this mess wouldn't have happened.  
  
But Vanya wouldn't be herself without softness lighting her features and making her shine purely out of her own kindness.

This it's not his Vanya.  
This is a perverted, twisted version of her, and he can't stand the sight but looking away in these last few moments feels like a betrayal to what had once been between them — _the connection they had shared._  
  
Vanya's tenderness was reserved for everyone but herself.

  
He wished he could show her some, could make her feel on her own skin how beautiful it felt to be cherished, could say _there, keep it close to your heart as a reminder that I care, keep it for yourself, please, and don't give it away as if it weren't the most precious thing you own._

**The apocalypse was made of the words that lodged themselves in his throat every time he spoke to her.**

**Author's Note:**

> There isn't much I can say about this other than I hope you liked it! Creative criticism is welcome, tell me if you found spelling mistakes because English is not my first language.
> 
> Fiveya Week Day 1  
Prompt: Apocalypse


End file.
